


alone with you

by fvckingavengers



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fvckingavengers/pseuds/fvckingavengers
Summary: chosen from a prompt list: "don't put your lips up to my mouth and tell me you can't stay."
Relationships: Peter Parker & Reader, Peter Parker/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 94





	alone with you

**Author's Note:**

> a/n (1 of 2): this fic jumps between scenes A LOT. i’m still getting a feel for Peter so i’m begging for feedback and for you to be honest about if this blows or not. if it’s not terrible, i’ll write a second part that’s more true to the prompt bc this was more of an introduction.   
> a/n (2 of 2): for all intents and purposes, this reader is essentially Black Cat (Felicia Hardy) from the Spider-Man comics. goes by the codename as well. i don’t own the rights to the name. (i love her so fucking much ok, if you don’t know about the character that’s fine but i suggest looking her up.)

You should’ve just walked away.

Should have minded your own business. Kept to yourself and stayed hidden in the shadows. You had completed your job. Got the priceless Monét painting from your ex’s pretentious gallery. What better revenge for breaking your heart than to ruin her career?

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly playing fair, but pain, like love, makes a person do crazy things. And your buyer had already wired the quarter mil to the private account you’d set up for this line of work.

But then _he_ showed up.

Swinging in, in his red and blue skin tight suit. He landed right in front of you, features hidden beneath the mask he wears.

“Out of my way, monkey man.” You scoff.

“Monkey?” He points to the emblem on his chest. “Does this look like a monkey to you?”

You squint your eyes and shrug. “Right. My mistake. Get lost, Spider-Boy.”

As you try to slide passed him, he grips your arm tightly. “C’mon, ‘ _boy_ ’? It’s Spider-Man.”

His hold on you is strong, but not mean. A warning. You can feel a slight bruise forming beneath the fabric of your own suit. You give him a once over and grin. “My apologies, Spider- _Man_. Do you always walk around with an impressive bulge like that, or are you just happy to see me?” You nod, gesturing to his crotch.

He stutters. Releases you from his grasp and takes a small step back. He’s flustered. How cute.

“This material doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Wasn’t my call.”

If you could see his cheeks, you’re sure they’d be flushed pink.

“Well please, inform me who I should thank. They deserve a muffin basket, at the very least.” You giggle from his blatant embarrassment. “As much fun as this is, I gotta jet. Until next time, Spider-Man.” You salute and wink before your grappling hook hurls you into the air and you disappear from sight.

He goes to take a step, but stumbles to the floor with a thud. You’d somehow lassoed his ankles when he wasn’t looking. “Shit.” He sighs heavily.

“Hell’s Kitchen” is a proper name for the west side of the city. It’s dirty. Dingy. But apparently, it was the perfect place for shakedowns and shady meetups. Mobsters often paid restaurant owners a hefty sum for vacancy of their offices or basements to take care of business.

You’d been hired to set up surveillance at a family owned Italian pizzeria. Bug the room with microphones and minuscule cameras to catch the Kingpin in the act of his illegal discrepancies.

The restaurant had closed for the night, and as long as the mob boss and his goons followed their usual schedule, the one you had observed after staking them out for the past week, the basement should be empty in fifteen minutes.

Right on time, at 11:30, Wilson Fisk is followed by two henchmen into his awaiting town car. Your brows furrow. His entourage usually consists of four thick headed, body builder, shit for brains.

You tread carefully. Staying close to the walls and moving silently on your toes. You hear a muffled conversation take place behind the closed door of the manager’s office on the far end of the kitchen. The only light provided is shown under the door and through the blurred glass in the center of the wooden frame. 

You knock over a stack of plastic cups, a diversion to draw them out. The clatter alerts them. The door swings open and you’re able to knock them both out before either of them can get a look at you.

With the darkness still concealing your figure, you peek into the office to make sure the coast is clear.

The corners of your mouth curl upward at the sight of a familiar color pattern of a spandex uniform.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.” His head perks up from the sound of your voice. He’s tied to a chair, hands behind his back and ankles bound to the legs. You lean down to eye level and scrunch your nose. “Got yourself in a bit of a sticky situation, did ya?”

“I had it handled.” He lies, almost convincingly. He grunts and pulls at his steel chain binds. His voice sounds more gruff than you remember. The two ruffians must have roughed him up before hauling him in and strapping him up.

“Oh yeah. Looks like you almost had ‘em.” You snort, walking past him.

He watches as you move around the small room, installing the mics and cameras. “I don’t think you’ll find anything of value here. Or have you downgraded to robbing local shops and eateries?”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Not that kinda job, Spidey. Believe it or not, I’ve gone straight. Turns out that working with the good guys pays better than stealing for the bad. I’m just trying to help take down Fisk. Same as you.”

“Two and a half months is a short time for someone to do a full 180.” He retorts.

You raise a brow and take his chin between your fingers. “Been counting the days since we last met? Adorable.”

He tilts his head out from your clutch and you could just laugh from the way the eye slits of his mask narrow at you, then immediately grow large when the metal claws unsheathe from your gloves. You bend over once more, the sharp nail of your index finger grazing against his jaw. It could easily rip through his mask, but your touch is gentle.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you.” You breathe against his face, reaching behind the hair and cutting through the chains with ease. Your back straightens and you turn on your heel, leaving him to free the restraints around his legs.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”

The masked spider looks in your direction at the sound of your voice to see you grinning like a Cheshire.

“Fuck me,” He mumbles, approaching you slowly.

You tilt your head and lick over your stretched smirk. “With pleasure.”

“What are you doing here?” He leans over to look at the computer screen you’re typing away at.

“Working.”

He doesn’t like the sound of your vague answer, but he takes it.

A glimmering diamond the size of his fist catches his eye. He picks it up and examines the jewel. “Thought you said you went straight.” He questions.

You slap the back of his hand, sending the diamond flying out of his palm and into yours. “Oh, sweet boy, I’m bisexual. I can’t do anything straight.” You secure the score between your tits, pulling up the zipper on your suit a little higher to keep it snug. “Go ahead. Try to take it. Make my day.”

He looks you up and down for a moment before moving past you. “Nah, you’d like that too much.”

You shrug before turning back to the computer you were previously working on. “You sure know how to leave a girl wanting more. Say, are you as cute under that mask as I’ve made you out in my head to be? You sure sound good looking.”

That makes him chuckle.

“I’m even better looking than you’ve imagined, if you can believe it. But,” He tilts his head and shrugs his shoulders. “you’ll never have the opportunity to see the moneymaker beneath this industrial strength spandex.”

“Oh, see that just sounds like a challenge to me.” He watches from his peripherals was you slowly move closer, leaning your lower back on the edge of the desk and facing him as he tries to accomplish his own mission. “I’m not the type to shy away from a challenge.”

“I get the feeling you’re not the type to shy away from anything.” He has to force his attention back to his own computer screen and away from your bottom lip between your teeth. A tactic to distract him. A tactic that’s working in your favor.

“Why don’t you like me, Spidey?” You ask innocently, trailing your gloved fingertips over the curve of his shoulder. “Everybody likes me.” You pout.

“And it kills you that I don’t, doesn’t it?” His voice is smug and you can make out the faint trace of a smirk.

“I’m not as bad as you think.” The playfulness in your voice vanishes, making him look at you. “Okay, so I’m not a saint, but you can’t be as perfect as you lead the world on to think you are.”

“How do you-”

“I do own a television.” You scoff. “I read the paper every morning. Watch the news every evening. They adore you.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” He deadpans.

“Not at all.” You shake your head. “But everyone has a dark side. And if you don’t let it out to play, let it breathe every once and a while - trust me, it has a way of getting what it wants.” You take a step back and grab the flash drive from he desktop you’d been using. “My demons play well with others. Give me a call when yours come looking for company.”

You had really done it this time.

Managed to get yourself in such deep shit that you actually felt anxious for your life, sorrow for those wrongs you’d never be able to right because you were going to die here, an inevitably gruesome and horrific death by the hands of Cletus Kasady - Carnage - a name rightfully earned from his years of mass killings.

Your body trembles and shakes, partially from the cold freezer you’ve been locked in, partially from fear. The door locks from the outside, there’s no other escape. You’re a sitting duck. All you can do is wait for him to come for you when you’re starting to drift out of consciousness, but still awake enough to feel every second of pain he plans to inflict on your body.

Fucking psychopath.

The door flies open, making you jump from both the sudden loud noise and the anticipation of seeing that nightmare-inducing face again. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d backed ourself into a corner and were cowering away until you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey,” He crouches down and places a careful hand on your knee. “hey, its okay. It’s just me.” You blink up at him with large eyes and the gasp you emit makes the back of your throat burn from the frosty air. “You’re okay. I got you.” He nods and offers his hand.

Never have you wanted to take a peek under that damn mask he wears more than in this instance. Just to witness his features. To confirm that there is in fact a man beneath the kevlar and spandex. Flesh and bone. Not just a void inside of the suit.

Maybe its the fact that you’re only a few degrees away from actually freezing to death, and you know that his body will provide some much needed warmth. Maybe its that just moments ago, you were convinced that you were dead meat, and that the red and blue spiderling’s appearance supplied you with a glimmer of hope that you could still walk out of here alive. Whatever the reason may be, you threw your arms around him, clung to him and buried your face in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

And to your surprise, he embraces you back, sympathizing with your need for comfort.

“Never thought you’d be the one to save my tail.” You huff, the slightest smile gracing your lips.

“Yeah, well,” He shrugs, the fabric of his suit stretching under the pull of his muscles and movement. “I owed you one. Besides, our demons have a playdate, remember? I’d hate to break that off.”

Your smirk broadens.

“There you two fuckin’ are.” Another voice says.

Your brows furrow and you tilt your head. “Eddie?”

“Hey, kitty cat.” Eddie winks. “Just so you know, when the eight legged freak here found out Kasady had you, he went ape shit. Ripped him to fuckin shreds. Honestly don’t know what you needed my help for, kid.”

Your body continues to tremble as it defrosts. “You were worried about me, Spidey?”

He opts not to answer and leads you out of the freezer. The damage left behind is a sight to behold; blood, chunks human flesh, appendages, and symbiote…goo.

“Hey, you guys wanna grab some wings? I’m starving.” Eddie pats his stomach. When neither of you say anything, he looks over his shoulder and furrows his brow, while you and the Spider glance at the ground. “Let me guess, you two haven’t don’t the big reveal yet, huh?” When you still don’t reply, his face slips into a grin and he reaches out to hook a finger under each of your chins. “How sweet, you’re waiting for the right time.”

You swat his arm away and scowl.

“Well, I’ve seen both of your faces. So who’s coming? I’m paying.” Eddie holds the door open and nods his head outside.

“Hot wings would warm you right up.” There’s a forced, muffled chuckle behind a tailored mask. “I’ll stay back and take care of this. Don’t be surprised if you hear firetrucks speeding down 42nd Street.”

Eddie gently tugs your arm and smiles softly. “C’mon, kitty. V’s pretty hungry, too. If we keep him waiting too long, he’ll wanna eat you.”

You give another look back before obliging, following Eddie out to the street and pulling your mask off from over your eyes.

He lays on the chaise lounge in your loft, breathing, but unconscious. You pace back and forth, biting at your fingernails as adrenaline dwindles down and anxiousness takes its place as you think about the events that brought you both here.

Out of all the evildoers and downright douchebags you’ve faced over the years, the Green Goblin has to be the weirdest. Your mistake was underestimating him and his power. Getting in the way of his glider earned you a nasty gash on your side - a paper cut in comparison to the injuries the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man would feel the moment he wakes up.

Curiosity gnaws at you.

It would be so easy look though his wallet for his credit card and put a real name to this man you’ve interacted on and off with for the past year. To lift the mask and look at his face.

There’d been an explosion, the Goblin having played a game of baseball with his self made bombs. After the dust and smoke settled, you found him under the rubble of sheetrock. Battered and bruised. Despite your better judgement and because you didn’t have any other bright ideas, you brought him home. Cleaned him up and now wait impatiently for him to come back to.

Who is this guy outside of the job? Does he have a family? A roommate that will be suspicious if he isn’t home by a certain time? A pet that he hopefully remembered to feed before leaving for the night? Or is he like you? A loner, who comes back to an empty home every evening with no one who cares whether or not they’re dead or alive.

Before you could dive deep into that rabbit hole, your attention is brought back to him when he stirs, groaning softly. You take a timid step closer, unsure how he way react. He could’ve hit his head and go apeshit on you, and although his fully equipped suit hangs on the back of a chair, completely out of reach, you’re certain that he could still pack a punch, considering his muscle tone.

But he just lays there, on high alert, the eyes of his mask wide as his chest rises and falls faster as his breath and heart rate quickens.

“Don’t tell me I need to put my mask back on in order for you to recognize me.” You offer a soft smile.

He blinks slowly and shakes his head. “What happened? W-Why am I half naked?”

He carefully sits up and you take that as your cue to take a seat on the provided space at the other end of the couch. “The Green Goober had a few tricks up his sleeve that neither of us saw coming. Didn’t end well. I took your suit off to tend to your wounds , which are healing impeccably fast, might I add.”

“You left my mask on?”

You shrug. “There was no sign of cranial bleeding or injury. And you know, I didn’t have consent.”

He laughs at that. It’s strained from the ache of his ribs, but its a good sign, nonetheless. He reaches for the top of his head and pulls the mask off, a mess of wavy hair is freed and his smile reaches his eyes, which match the warm chestnut color of his hair. He’s so much more handsome than you’d imagined and you feel your cheeks heat up from staring.

“What’s your name?” You couldn’t resist the temptation to ask. He gave you an inch but you want the whole nine yards.

“Peter. Peter Parker.”

You can’t fight your own smile as it splits across your face. “Cute. It suits you.”

Peter repeats your name after you tell it to him. The way it rolls so effortlessly and freely off his tongue makes a shiver run down your spine. You like the way it sounds coming from his voice.

“Well, I have some blood and dirt to cleanse out of some very intimate areas.” You rise to your feet and face him as you walk backwards to your room. “I have a shirt and some sweatpants that I’ll leave on the bed if you need to head out, but you’re welcome to stay the night.”

Before you close the door, you see him nod. Your catsuit falls to the tiled floor with a thud and you grimace at the thought of having to send it out for dry cleaning. A deep breath fills your lungs as you inhale, already feeling at ease from the hot water spewing from the shower head. Your eyelids are heavy as they close and you release the breath you’d been holding, sleep calling your name, lulling you over to the bed to get some much needed rest.

An oversized shirt is all you have it in you to throw on upon exiting the shower. The clothes you’d laid out were gone, so you figured Peter left for home to tend to his family, roommate, or pet. You pegged him for a dog person.

As you crawl up to the top of the bed, you hear a muffled noise come from the other room. Your instincts leave little room for reasonable thought, and you reach for the switchblade in your bedside table. Light on your feet, you cling to the wall, sneaking around the corner and pushing the source of a moving shadow against the chrome refrigerator, knife to their throat.

“This how you treat all your guests?”

His voice was calm. Amused, even. With your free hand, you flip on the light switch. Sure enough, there’s a grin spread across his lips. Top half still bare, black sweats hanging on his hips.

“I thought you left.” You swallow, sheathing the blade and lowering your leg from where your knee pressed into his chest to keep him from fleeing.

He takes a long swig from the glass of ice water in his hand, the cause of the noise you heard. “Do you want me to leave?” His tongue slips out, licking the bead of water that hung from the curve of his bottom lip.

He was in the mood to play.

Mental and physical exhaustion be damned on both of your parts.

You give into his little game.

Taking the glass into your grasp, you back up to the island, jumping up to sit on the counter with the greatest of ease and taking a mocking his actions. “Do you want me to want you to leave?”

His body fits in the space between your legs, his palms at the edge of the marble surface, only inches from touching your bare thigh. “How about we leave it at me wanting you to want me.”

Your legs enclose around him, trapping him there as you smirk, irises darkening in shade under the glow of the overhead lights. “Peter, what do you think I’ve been getting myself off to at night since we met?”

He’d be more upset with himself for giving up the fight so easily if your lips didn’t feel so soft against his as he kissed you. The temperature rises as his calloused hands roam, one at the side of your neck while the other travels up your leg to your hip.

With a flick of your tongue against his, he’s groaning into your mouth, which has you grinning triumphantly against his. He pulls you closer, chest flush against his, the soft fabric of the sweatpants brushing against your core over his hard on.

No words are spoken as he picks you up and carries you to the sofa he woke up on. The only sounds to fill the space around the two of you are your soft moans and growingly obscene kisses as you both become needier, hungrier for undiscovered skin.

He sits you on his lap, hands gripping your hips as your teeth nip at his neck and lips encase around the mark to suck a bruise there. Peter has to will himself to calm down. Take his time. Enjoy this moment with you.

His eyes are pleading as he looks up at your face, nimble fingers tugging at the hem of the t-shirt concealing your body from him. You take it off yourself, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes remain on yours as he leans down to take your breast to his mouth, tongue swirling and lapping at your nipple as you cradle his head, all the while rolling your hips against him, the material of his pants absorbing your slick.

He’s quick to lose the last bit of clothes that act as a barrier, his length resting against his lower abdomen, twitching and begging to be touched. You whimper at the sight of the veins bulging from his shaft and his throbbing tip.

You lick the palm of your hand and wrap it around his cock before lining him up and sinking your knees into the cushion. Peter curses under his breath before pulling you in by the back of your neck and kissing you hard.

He ruts his hips up, fucking into you and gaining momentum as your cries fill his ears. His hands are everywhere; in your hair, gripping your ass, your hips, holding you close and following your motions as you ride him for all he’s worth.

“I usually pride myself on having great stamina, but you’re making that difficult to prove.” He chuckles breathlessly, nipping at your collarbone as his fingers strum against your clit, bringing you closer to your breaking point as he gains on his own.

“We’ve got all night for you to show me what you’re made of.” You grin, taking his chin between your fingers and tilting his head up. “Right now, I want you to cum.” You nod with your lip bitten between your teeth. “I’m right there with you. Fill me up and I’ll come apart.”

With a promise like that, how could he not oblige? His eyes shut tight and the veins protrude from his neck as he tries to keep his pleasured cries quiet. A few more trusts and he’s done for, hips sputtering as he erupts, burying his face in your neck. True to your word, your body writhes and trembles as you reach a euphoric peak, velvet walls clenching and constricting so heavenly that Peter swears he could cum again.

You’re not given much time to bask in your high before you’re tightly embraced and hoisted up, Peter still inside of you as he walks toward your bedroom.

“We’re not done here.”

**Author's Note:**

> a/n (1 of 2): this fic jumps between scenes A LOT. i’m still getting a feel for Peter so i’m begging for feedback and for you to be honest about if this blows or not. if it’s not terrible, i’ll write a second part that’s more true to the prompt bc this was more of an introduction.   
> a/n (2 of 2): for all intents and purposes, this reader is essentially Black Cat (Felicia Hardy) from the Spider-Man comics. goes by the codename as well. i don’t own the rights to the name. (i love her so fucking much ok, if you don’t know about the character that’s fine but i suggest looking her up.)


End file.
